


Sometimes

by Forestwater



Series: The Creatively-Titled Camp Camp AU Collection [8]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Jasper lives au, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Partially canon-compliant, Some angst, but the ending will be happy i promise, counselor jasper au, everyone is an idiot and they love each other, gay boyfriends into bisexual poly trio, gwen is the only grown up, jasper and gwen are memelords, jasper is heavily inspired by hopefullypessimistic's version, neon vaporwave jasper, who is heavily inspired by griffin mcelroy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16747015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/pseuds/Forestwater
Summary: Sometimes you get everything you’ve ever dreamed of, and it’s a lot scarier and infinitely better than you’d ever expected.Sometimes you and your boyfriend fall in the love with your gorgeous, caustic nerd of a co-counselor.Sometimes “I want a relationship just like yours” turns into “I want to be part of your relationship.”Just …sometimes, okay?





	1. Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an art trade with [Zoruui](https://tmblr.co/mAvrzeUfMuMIYmZmvYk0E8w). Prompt is a Counselor!Jasper AU in which Jasper, David, and Gwen are given control of Camp Campbell.

David’s a good liar in a few very specific ways, and a terrible one in most others.

When it comes to taking the camp back, he is more than comfortable sitting back and letting Max and Mr. Campbell take the lead, because even when he’s called upon to explain his study binder for the Campwell counselors – one of the few things about their scheme, Max will exasperatedly point out several times, that  _isn’t_  a lie – he can’t keep his knees or his voice steady.

When it comes to having his co-counselors back, he doesn’t even bother pretending. He flings his arms around Jasper and Gwen hard enough to choke and thanks them profusely for abandoning their nice city jobs and returning to the camp. His sincerity is almost as suffocating as his hugs, and he knows it, knows he should tone it down before it becomes too much but he’s always been too much and he’s never learned how to stop.

When it comes to his feelings, to his ironed-on cheer and the white-knuckled grip he has on his optimism, he’s an excellent liar, probably because it’s 90% genuine. Because David is happy. Deliriously happy, happier than he can remember being in a long, long time.

The kind of happy that scares him, because it’s the kind of happy that doesn’t last.

The kind of happy like discovering the joy of camping, just as his best friend lost it.

The kind of happy like falling in love with Jasper, two days before his father walked out the door forever.

The kind of happy like having his boyfriend come work at Camp Campbell with him, just as he realized the feelings he had for his  _other_  coworker were a lot more than strictly friendly, and that the odds of that working out well in any way were painfully slim.

But he’s happy. He really, truly is. He’s so happy he can shove aside the niggling worry that Jasper and Gwen had been better off in jobs that actually used their degrees, the simmering resentment that Mr. Campbell had outsmarted him again ( _again_ , and a child had been able to see through his tricks better than David had), the paralyzing terror of being the only one in charge of the camp and the weight sitting cold and leaden in his stomach at the fact that everyone had come back because they saw something in this place, in  _him_ , and he has to live up to everything they all expect or want or –

David is  _happy_.

And he’s very, very good at using the brightness and shininess of his joy to distract from the way that happy is brittle and crumbling around the edges.


	2. Sir & Madam Boss-Man

“There he is! Our brave and noble leader!”

“Shut up, Jasp, it’s way too early for that shit.”

“And his right-hand woman!” Jasper grins as Gwen and David, finished rounding up the kids and dragging them to breakfast, slide onto the bench across the table, reaching across to twine his fingers with David’s. “What’s the matter, not enjoying the thrilling life of running a summer camp?”

“Of course I am,” David says automatically, glancing from the rain outside to where the rest of the campers are eating, gnawing on his bottom lip. Jasper squeezes his hand and resists the temptation to tease him for not listening; he doesn’t need it right now.

“You’re doing great,” he says instead, and is rewarded with a tired smile from David that shivers its way to his toes. “Both of you, seriously.”

Gwen rolls her eyes, her gaze flicking down to their joined hands before bouncing away. “If you’re sucking up to us because you think you’ll talk us into running a monster-hunting camp or something …”

“It’s  _cryptid_ -hunting, thank you very much,” he interrupts.

“What’s the difference?”

“Cryptids are real. Monsters are for Halloween.”

She looks for a moment like she’s going to disagree, and Jasper’s mind spins with a thousand ways to egg her on, because she might pretend to be annoyed but he lives for the match that flares behind her eyes when she argues. He knows she’s always wanted to be a writer but he can see where her family left their fingerprints, the part of her that would make an excellent and merciless lawyer.

Sometimes he thinks Gwen’s wasted here, at this backwoods repository of broken promises.

She’s distracted by something over Jasper’s shoulder and her eyes narrow. “Nurf,” she calls, her tone sharp enough to cut, “I  _know_  you didn’t grab that butter knife to threaten Space Kid with it.”

“Who said anything about  _threatening?”_

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Put the knife back or you’ll spend the morning helping QM.” (She doesn’t explain what the Quartermaster does when he’s not serving meals or helping the counselors. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t know, either.)

“Buzzkill …”

Jasper watches the way her eyes follow Nurf; he doesn’t look behind him to confirm, but he’s pretty sure by the way they travel left then right that she’s monitoring the knife’s safe return with a laserlike intensity. A very lawyerly gaze.

David says something about the morning’s activity and the focus behind Gwen’s eyes snaps, softening into her usual disinterested glaze. “That doesn’t make sense,” she interrupts, cutting his boyfriend’s excited patter midstream. “How are we supposed to find that many bees in half an hour?”

“There’s a place I know that’s tucked away –”

“We’re not going on a hike to steal some fucking bees’ nests, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He smiles, playing with his breakfast and watching them spar back and forth. Well, it’s less a fight than Gwen swatting down ideas while David tries to wriggle out of the cool vise of her logic.

“Do we even  _have_  child-sized beekeeper outfits?”

“Well, in Sewing Camp –”

“Oh hell to the fuck no.”

She  _is_  wasted here, but she’s also essential. She was wasted at the Camp Corp office, too, and he wonders if part of the reason she came back was because she knows they need her. He also wonders if part of the reason she came back was the same as his, that she missed David so much it felt like a physical ache in her chest that didn’t ease until he’d bundled her up in his arms and welcomed her home.

Sometimes he catches her watching them, and thinks she must have.

“Okay, no bees,” Jasper breaks in, because Gwen and David could go on like this for hours if nobody stops them. “How about bug-catching? Non-bee bug catching? Nothing that stings. Or bites. Or, I don’t know, stabs?”

David’s smile gets even brighter, the way it always does whenever Jasper gets involved in camp activities. It’s like a bolt of lightning on a sunny day. “What a great idea, Jasp! It’s a great idea, isn’t it?” he says, turning to Gwen.

They always turn to Gwen, because Gwen always has the final word. (Whether they end up listening to her or not.)

“Yeah, that seems a lot less like it’ll get someone sent to the hospital.”

Jasper lets his hands hit the table with a satisfying  _thunk_. “The Boss-Man has spoken! The lady Boss-Man seconds the motion! Let’s go get some bugs!” He tugs David to his feet, resisting the urge to kiss the pleased blush that spreads across his cheeks and ears.

Gwen’s eyes linger for a second too long on the two of them, flicking from David’s face to Jasper’s, and when their gaze meets something in it looks guilty – a little ember dying as she turns her attention to the remains of their food and cleans it up. “Are we doing this with nets or jars or what?” she asks, weaving through the tables to the garbage cans. (They don’t need to go with her, since she’s taken their dishes, but they follow her like ducklings anyway.)

“Isn’t that up to you and the camp’s  _owner_ , Madam Boss-Man?” he teases, half because he loves the way David glows at the reminder that he’s in charge of his dream camp, and half because he knows Gwen’s reaction –

– the fake-annoyed huff and a thin-lipped glare that had scared him for about three days after he’d first met her, the casual profanity, the careful sidestepping of any authority –

“Jesus Christ, it’s not like I’m on the deed or anything. I have the same job as you, Jasp.”

– the way she says his name –

It’s exactly as cute as he knew it would be, and it makes him grin broadly. He tightens his hold on David’s hand and tugs him closer, until he feels the reassuring thump of David’s bony hip against his own. “Nah, I’m just here for the rad paycheck,” he says. “You’ve been working here almost as long as Sir Boss-Leader-Captain-Man Davey.”

He’s egging them both on, of course, but he’s still being honest. The way Jasper sees it, Camp Campbell has two co-counselors and also a guy who waits for someone to tell him what to do. Two people who understand the grounds and the people inside and out, and one dumbass who’s never going to be more comfortable away from air conditioning and his computer screen. The ball of sunshine and the gloomy rain cloud … and Jasper.

Who’s also there.

Who doesn’t fit into these puzzle pieces quite as neatly and seems to be the only one who’s noticed.

He’s not the Boss-Man. He’s not the practical, grounding (pessimistic) presence that often serves as the camp’s only grown-up.

But he’s  _there_ , at the camp he’s still trying so hard not to hate. And that has to count for something.


	3. Third Wheeling

Gwen isn’t tired of having David and Jasper around all the time. That’s not it, really.

Sometimes she gets tired of feeling like she’s in charge of wrangling two hyperactive five-year-olds:

“It wouldn’t be that hard! And we have the shovels and buckets from Beach Camp!”

“Yeah, and I bet we can get some of the campers to help if we –”

“You guys are  _not_  building a moat around Nerris’s castle! It’s not safe and we have way too much other shit to worry about.”

“Aww, but Gwen –”

Sometimes she gets tired of feeling like she’s protecting David from Jasper – not in a malicious way, but because if she doesn’t he’s gonna get talked into something really fucking stupid:

“I swear, if I hear either of you say the word ‘cryptid’ again –”

“But Gwen, we have to have new camps to make up for the ones Davey’s getting rid of!”

 _“Or_  we could focus on making sure the camps we  _do_  still have aren’t using outdated equipment that’s probably super fucking dangerous.”

Sometimes she’s tired of trying to keep up with David’s relentless positivity, even though she always has Jasper there to share a weary sigh or an eyeroll or a snarky, sarcastic remark.

Sometimes she’s tired of mediating half-joking arguments caused by their clashing personalities and equally terrible ideas.

Sometimes she’s tired of walking in on them like they’re goddamn teenagers who don’t seem to realize that they all  _share_  a bedroom.

Sometimes she’s tired of trying to follow inside jokes that are built on decades of history she’s only ever scratched the surface of.

Sometimes she’s tired of being the bisexual female equivalent of their Sassy Gay Friend – the one they come to vent or gush or cry at, who can always be expected to remain impartial because she’s not part of their relationship, part of  _them_.

So yeah, she’s tired. Tired of the constant reminders that her coworkers are a single unit, two exasperatingly exhausting adorable difficult people that fit together so perfectly there’s no room for anything except JasperandDavid, DavidandJasper, JaspandDavey somedayMr.and.Mr.Andrews-Greenwood.

Gwen isn’t at all tired of David’s unflaggable energy, how he can always tease just a little more effort and enthusiasm out of her, how he makes her feel like this job is actually important. She isn’t tired of Jasper, either; he understands her dour, meme-drenched sense of humor, and he’s always there when she needs a break from being “on” all the time and just needs to veg out in front of some trashy television. She isn’t even tired of the two of them together, because they’re quite literally Relationship Goals personified and it’s endlessly entertaining watching them bounce off and bump into each other.

The problem isn’t that Gwen is tired of her ridiculous, melodramatic, hyperactive boys.

The problem is that she’s tired of being unable to escape the fact that they will never actually be  _hers_.


	4. Safety Net

David doesn’t mean to worry anyone. He never does.

He always tries to be the most helpful he possibly can; he tries even when the campers or his coworkers don’t always want it. He can’t help it, though – his mother always taught him to lend a hand, because everyone has struggles and he has a gift for seeing the bright side, and he’s always worn that as a badge of honor but sometimes it feels a bit more like a burden, when no one around him will try to see the bright side and he’s forced to hold the silver lining onto every dark cloud when the glue’s coming loose and no one seems to see it anyway and he’s –

He’s just  _tired_ , sometimes.

But while people never seem to notice his attempts to stay positive, they sure can tell when he stops, even for just a second.

“David?”

“Mr. David, where are you?”

“The fuck’s up with camp man?”

He takes a deep breath and draws his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead on his knees and blocking out the distant babble of voices.

They’ll be fine.

He’s allowed to need a minute.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door to the shower stall, making him jump. “I, uh, know this isn’t appropriate, but you aren’t like … jerking off in there, are you?”

David sighs, lifting his head and tilting it back against the water-softened wood. “No, Gwen. I’m not.”

“Okay.” He hears the scuff of her boots on the dusty floor, and the corners of his mouth twitch because he can picture her perfectly. “I’ll just, um, go get Jasper for you.”

He wants to tell her not to bother, but he knows better. Knows that telling Gwen to do anything is an exercise in futility, and knows that it’s impossible to keep Jasper away if he has even the tiniest inkling that something might be wrong, and knows that he can’t spend the rest of the day in the showers anyway, because he has a job to do and people depending on him.

He hears the door to the bathrooms open, the unintelligible murmur of Gwen’s voice. Then there’s a gentle knock, and a pair of pristine white sneakers with neon shoelaces appear under the stall door. “Hey, Davey? Having a shower party with the spiders?”

(He also knows that Jasper’s voice is a cup of tea, warm and comforting, and just a few words have the knotted muscles in his shoulders unwinding. He knows better – knows that  _Gwen_ knows  _him_ well enough to realize his boyfriend is exactly what he needs.)

David reaches up and unlatches the door, his arm dropping to his side like a rock into the lake. Everything feels heavy, even his tongue, but he doesn’t have to say anything as Jasper slips into the narrow stall – too small for two people to fit in comfortably; they’ve tried – and plops down onto the grungy tile next to him. “My butt is gonna be soaked,” he says, no real complaint in his voice as David turns his face into the warm, sweet-smelling dip where Jasper’s shoulder meets his neck. He wraps an arm around him, tugging him closer, and they’ve snuggled like this a hundred thousand times and David is always a little awed by how well they  _fit_ together, like the crook of Jasper’s neck was made specifically to accommodate his bony face.

Ever since they were kids, when Jasper was still the camp darling and Davey was the resentful brat who too frequently stained homesick angry tears into the shoulder of his tentmate’s pajama shirt by night and refused to acknowledge him by day – before they were even  _friends_ , they slotted together neatly like this.

He’s not sure their relationship makes sense, but he’ll never stop being grateful for his constant, perfect Jasper.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jasper asks, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “Or about something else?”

He shakes his head, not sure to which part of that question. “The Millers called,” he said, sniffling. “Th-there’s a lot of paperwork to …” His throat closed, a painful golf ball lodged behind his adam’s apple, and he took a raw breath that scraped past the lump, just enough space to force the words out. “Transferring Mr. Campbell’s … everything. To me. I have – have to go into the ci- _hh_ ity t- !”

A thousand words build up behind the golf ball, things about setting up a low-key camp for his CBFLs to run while he’s gone and how he needs two separate forms of identification and whether the campmobile will survive the trip to Camp Corp. (who are generously supplying a meeting place in order to facilitate the relinquishing of Camp Campbell as quickly and smoothly as possible), and how they have to scrape together enough money for an overnight stay if it goes too long because his eyes aren’t very good in the dark anymore from staring at too many campfires and how  _lonely_ he’ll be without them, how he hasn’t had to fall asleep without the weight of Jasper’s arm across his chest or over his side and he’s wanted the camp back but it’s  _too much_  – too big and too scary and too much, and this is what Gwen and Jasper are good at and so he just wants to leave them to it so that he can play in the dirt and teach the campers about the forest and  _sleep_ –

He … hasn’t been sleeping well, the last few nights.

“Oh, Davey.” Jasper sighs, turning his head to press a stubble-scratchy kiss to his forehead (David feels a pang of guilt; he must’ve been getting ready when Gwen found him).

Heat prickles at his eyes, and he squeezes them shut, taking a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be bogus.” He snorts softly, his hair bouncing against David’s temples as he shakes his head and mutters, “Nah, I can’t pull that off.”

“Sure you can,” he replies automatically, because his boyfriend can do anything he puts his mind to.

Jasper kisses the top of his head again, and David can feel the way his mouth is curved into a smile. “Radical, dude.”

There’s a knock at the door and they both jump, causing the wobbly shower head to jolt and cascade a handful of cold droplets onto their heads. “You guys okay in there?”

David starts to wriggle out of Jasper’s arms, opening his mouth to tell her they’re fine and will be out in a minute, but Jasp tightens his embrace and says, “Get in here, Boss Santos. It’s an emergency.”

“Oh, that’s not nece –”

“It’s very necessary,” Jasper says, louder. “Ignore him.”

If Gwen’s surprised to see them sitting in a small puddle of water on the floor, she doesn’t show it. Jasper graciously – if clumsily – tugs off his dark blue hoodie and drops it onto the ground for her to sit on, waggling his eyebrows.

“M’lady.”

She rolls her eyes and slides down to sit across from them, her back against the shower wall opposite and her feet awkwardly splaying to fit between their bodies. (This shower is even less suited to  _three_ people than it was two.)

There’s a moment of silence, where David tries to avoid Gwen’s piercingly curious gaze. Jasper, of course, breaks it after only a few seconds.

“So … this is nice!” He sounds a little bit like David when he puts on that falsely chipper voice, though he insists he’s not doing it on purpose. “When’s the last time the three of us hung out in a cramped, unhygienic space like this?”

“Literally every day, Jasp.”

“Sure, but there’s usually fifteen screaming kids as well. If we tried that here it’d be a regular phone booth challenge. Speaking of which …”

“I’m using my daily veto on that.”

Jasper grins at her, a smile that never fails to make David’s stomach flutter. “You  _sure_  about that? Breakfast isn’t even over yet. I could have a lot more bad ideas you’ll wanna shoot down.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

David snuggles into Jasper’s shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed. For the first time in what feels like weeks, he’s actually sleepy. Warm and surrounded on all sides and soaking up the voices of his two favorite people in the entire world, he suddenly wants nothing more than to block out everything else.

He’s almost dozed off when he hears a change in Gwen’s tone, softer and more serious. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” Jasper’s fingers comb through his hair, and David tilts his head into the touch. He’s too tired to open his eyes, but that’s okay. “Just stressed about the whole camp thing. And going into the city tomorrow is freaking him out.”

She snorts – louder than she intended, he can tell, because her next words are almost a whisper. “That’s fucking stupid. Why is he going alone?”

Jasper shrugs, the movement almost jolting David out of his drowsy half-aware state. (He shifts, tucking into the crook of Jasper’s neck so he won’t be jostled as much.) “You know what he’s like.”

“Fucking stupid,” she says again, and David wonders if he’s just imagining the warmth in her voice.

They’re quiet again, the soft drip of the shower and the distant shouts of the campers the only sounds in the muggy air. It wraps like a damp blanket around them, heavy and cozy.

“Why don’t you go with him?”

“To the city?” He hums thoughtfully, and David knows that if he was still wearing his hoodie he’d be playing with the drawstrings on it. “What about you?”

“Please. I’ve been running this camp before you started here,” she says, the disdain in her voice making David smile even in his barely-awake state. “If I have to, I’ll get QM to scare the shit out of ‘em. They’ll be good.”

“They’ve never been good.”

She sighs, long and heavy, like she’s just barely holding back her irritation. “We’ll be fine.”

“If you say so. Just let me ask him.” Jasper lightly shakes David’s shoulder. “Hey, Davey? I’m gonna come to the meeting with you tomorrow. If that’s okay with you, just keep sleeping.”

He should say something; it isn’t really fair to leave Gwen with the campers all day by herself. But opening his eyes feels like too much work, and so does the thought of pretending he doesn’t want Jasper there.

So a few seconds later when Jasp murmurs, “There, all settled,” David allows himself to let go of his guilt, just this one time.

It’s okay if he’s not ready to run things alone, because he’s not alone.

He has a safety net.


End file.
